


The Fox and the Thief

by Ernmark (M_Moonshade)



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Juno is the thief and Peter is the private eye, M/M, reverse au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:12:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9625547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Moonshade/pseuds/Ernmark
Summary: Detective Peter Nureyev has just taken on a new assignment: to save mob thief Juno Steel from an upcoming police raid by any means necessary.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> jellyfishpikachu asked:  
> I don't know if this has been done yet, but: Jupeter AU where Juno is the thief and Peter is the detective?

The woman who steps into Peter’s office is distraught. He can tell it’s serious– she barely even smiles when he lays on the charm, so he doesn’t waste any more time flirting. 

“How can I help you, miss…” 

“Rita,” she says quietly. “And… it’s not for me. It’s for a friend.”

“It must be quite a friend to have you so concerned.” Already he’s got a kettle boiling. “You look like you could use something to drink, Rita.” 

“Oh, I couldn’t,” she says. “I’m on my lunch now. The chief would be furious if I came back smelling like alcohol, especially what with all the drama over Kowalski and Chen…”

“I was thinking something closer to Oolong, personally.” Though judging by the way she’s fidgeting, she could use anything that might help her relax. “Now about your friend…?”

“Right. Juno. Um…” She doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands until Peter hands her a steaming mug. “He used to work with me at the station. One of the detectives at the HCPD, ya know? Real talented guy. Real sweet, too. Only… only sometimes people break rules, ya know? Not all cops are squeaky clean all the time, right?”

“And your friend Juno wasn’t one of the squeaky ones?”

“Oh, but he was!” she says in a hurry. “He was. It’s just that he’d always get so mad at the ones who were dirty. He’d see them takin’ bribes or extortin’ little old ladies– and he had this temper, see. And he mighta punched a few too many dirty cops. Kinda got himself kicked out, and not before he made himself a few enemies back at the precinct.”

“I imagine not.” He’s not sure exactly where this is heading, but he invites her to continue.

“So now he’s working with the Kanagawas. Their muscle, some of the time. Other times, he helps ‘em find stuff. People. Like I said, he used to be a detective.”

“And he’s found more honor among thieves than among the people meant to catch them.” 

“Maybe a little,” Rita says meekly. 

Peter can’t exactly blame him. He’s worked closely enough with the HCPD that he knows to avoid them when he can. “It sounds like you care for him quite a lot, Rita.”

“He’s a good friend,” she says. “Practically family. And…” She lowers her voice. “And I really don’t want him to die.” She takes a long draft of her tea and chokes a little on the heat. It was boiling a few minutes ago, after all. “See, the streams haven’t been going as well as they used to, and the Kanagawas haven’t been paying their protection money the way they ought to, and when one of the beat cops came in wanting their dues, she came back in pieces. So now the HCPD is planning a raid on a bunch of Kanagawa businesses. It’s gonna be real ugly. They’ve been getting body bags delivered to the station all week.” Her voice is shaking. If anyone found out that she’d told him all of this, she’d lose her job at minimum. More likely, she’d wind up behind bars. “I want you to find Juno and make sure he ain’t there when it goes down.” 

* * *

Peter’s been in the business long enough that he’s developed quite a few aliases with a few credentials of his own. Today he’s drawing on one of his less developed ones– Duke Rose, a thief with delusions of grandeur from the outer rim. It’s not quite one of his favorites, but it’ll work well enough for this case.

According to Peter’s sources, Croesus Kanagawa intends to have Juno steal information on the upcoming seasons of the Triad’s shows. It’s a valuable asset from a dangerous rival, and that means it’s going to be a two-person job. It only takes a few little threats and bribes to make an old contact introduce Peter. He doesn’t stay long enough to vouch for him, but he doesn’t have to.

Juno Steel is a creature of habit. The dive bar they’re meeting in is one of his most frequent haunts. The scotch he’s nursing is his favorite drink. And his wallet is always kept on a chain in his back right pocket.

“Could I get you a refill?” Peter offers as Juno drains his glass.

The thief shrugs. “It’s your money.”

It’s a little bit thrilling to watch the nonchalance drip off his face when Peter pulls out Juno’s wallet from his own back pocket. “Actually, it’s yours.” 

For an instant Juno flounders, checking his pants for a wallet that isn’t there. Then he rounds on Peter, grabbing him by the collar and flattening him against the bar.

“You trying to be cute?” he snarls.

“I hardly need to try,” Peter laughs with confidence he doesn’t really feel. He might have swiped the blades and lasers out of Juno’s pockets, but the bar is still lined with glasses that could do just as much damage if they’re shattered and embedded in his face– and that isn’t even getting started on Juno’s fists. “You didn’t call me in for my looks, Mister Steel, you called me in for my abilities. You’ve seen a sample of what I can do. I want to know if it satisfies.”

Juno releases him with a sharp breath that might be a laugh. “Is that supposed to impress me? Pickpockets are a dime a dozen.” He returns to his seat and pushes his glass at the bartender, signalling for a refill. The motion takes less than a second, but in that moment, his eyes are off Peter.

That’s all the time Peter needs. In that single moment of distraction, he slides off the table. When Juno glances back at him, he’s gone. 

The thief frowns. “Where’d you–”

“Right here, Mister Steel.” Peter’s already on Juno’s other side, tugging open Juno’s jacket to slide his laser back into its holster. “I suppose you’ll be wanting this back?” He catches Juno’s hand the moment it comes up to grab him. He doesn’t have Juno’s strength, but he makes up for it with an intimate familiarity with ligaments and tendons. The smallest push, and he forces Juno’s fist to unfold long enough to place the wallet into it. “That too.” He gives it a little pat, just for good measure.

“Okay, fine,” Juno says peevishly. “You might be useful.” 

He can’t tell if the look on Juno’s face is more impressed or aroused. 

* * *

Growing up on Brahma, theft was necessary to survival. On Mars, he has the luxury of having a legitimate job that can pay all his bills, but he never quite let those old skills rust away. There’s something nostalgic about slipping back into the old ways and hearing Mag remind him of the thousand and one variations on Lesson One of Thieving. He has even fewer qualms about revisiting his childhood when his mark is an organization like the Triad. 

They’re only a minor mark, anyway. His real target is Juno Steel, and he’s far more of a challenge. Come on too strong and he’ll be frightened off; don’t come on strong enough, and he won’t catch on. Keeping him interested is a balancing act that keeps Peter constantly on his toes, and he can’t remember the last time he’s had this much fun. The case is thrilling. The banter’s delightful. Even when things go wrong, there’s a thrill in fighting beside Juno. They whirl and slide around each other with such fluid intuition that it feels almost like a dance, moving to the beat of laser blasts and fists on flesh. 

And all at once the music ends. The fight is won, their opponents are scattered across the ground, the air thick with the scent of blood and ozone. The two of them are left leaning against each other, their chests heaving as they catch their breath, still delirious with adrenaline.

And in a wild moment, all Peter can think about is how much he wants to kiss Juno until he leans in and does it.

Juno tastes like scotch and ashes. His lips are gentle and his hands are soft, as if he’s afraid he might hurt Peter if he applies even the slightest pressure. 

When he whispers Peter’s false name, it sounds almost like a prayer.

* * *

Juno’s phone is turned off and hidden under Peter’s couch, out of sight and well out of mind. Maybe some of Juno’s associates might have tried looking for him at his apartment, but nobody’s going to be looking for him at Peter’s place. 

The supply of condoms and lube is generous. The refrigerator is well stocked. The curtains are thick enough to blot out the passage of day and night. So long as Juno stays lost in the haze of sex and satisfaction, he’ll have no reason to notice the passage of time. 

Peter does, though. And he knows he should check the news, just to see if the HCPD raid has happened yet. Just to see if the job is over, so he can go back to his ordinary life. Juno can go back to his, too– though there’s no telling how many of the Kanagawas will be dead by the time all of this is over. How many of them did Juno know? How many of them were his friends? How will he cope with the knowledge that he wasn’t there when it happened?

It’s a reality he’ll have to face eventually, no matter how much Peter wishes he didn’t. But for now he doesn’t have to. For now Juno is right here with him, safe in well-fucked bliss, content to be in the arms of somebody who loves him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> junonureyev asked:  
> Now I'm curious what happens when Juno figures out Peter was hired by Rita in the thief!Juno AU!

The door’s barely open before the fist collides with Peter’s jaw. He doesn’t even try to stay standing– that would only invite a second punch– but drops to the floor like so much dead weight.

He knew this was coming. He knew it the moment he looked through the peephole and saw Juno Steel standing on the other side of his door. He just thought he’d manage to utter a few syllables first.

Juno steps through the door and kicks it shut behind him without taking his eyes off Peter. There’s no chance to slip away before Juno’s got him pinned between his knees. He takes two fistfuls of Peter’s shirt and hauls him a few inches off the floor. 

There’s a cold fury in his eyes, but his tone is frighteningly casual. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Rose or Glass or whoever the fuck you are. I’ve seen some interesting things in this business. But what you did? That was a _special_ kind of fucked up.”

Peter cringes. “Juno, I’m sor–” He’s cut off by a sharp laugh.

“You’re _sorry_? Do you honestly expect me to believe that?” He drags Peter closer. “The only thing you’re going to tell me is who hired you.” 

“What?” Peter says, mostly to buy himself time to think.

“Don’t play fucking stupid with me,” Juno snarls. “Was it the Triad? Saffron? Somebody in the HCPD have it out for me?” With each suggestion he gives a jerk that makes Peter’s skull rattle. “Give me a name, goddammit. _Who hired you?_ ” 

He should be paying attention to Peter’s hands, but he’s too busy thrashing him around. Blinded by rage, Juno doesn’t notice that his laser’s been stolen until its barrel is pressed into his jaw.

“Are you finished?” Peter says evenly.

Juno relaxes his grip by a quarter inch. His shoulders are shaking with a cold, bitter laugh. “Why? You gonna shoot me, Rose?”

“I’d rather not have to.” The gun is set to stun, but Juno doesn’t need to know that. 

Nor would he care, apparently. There’s a desperate glint in his eye. “Might as well, right? Better not leave a job half-done.”

“I’d have an easier time answering your questions if they made the slightest bit of sense,” Peter says carefully. “I’ve been hired to do quite a number of jobs in this city, but I can assure you, none of them would have involved shooting you.”

“I don’t give a shit if the laser was supposed to come from you or the Kanagawas, they all burn the same.” 

Given that the Kanagawas rarely use the stun function on their weapons, Peter highly doubts that. 

“Exactly which job was I meant to have done?” he asks. “It might have something to do with the concussion you just gave me, but I’m drawing a blank.” 

Juno sneers. “Don’t play fucking stupid.”

Peter would like to point out that he fucks quite intelligently and they both know it, thank you very much, but he suspects that might not help matters.

“The police raid,” he finally explains. “You knew about it ahead of time, and you used that phony thief act to lure me away so I wouldn’t be around to help when it happened. Now Croesus is dead and the new boss thinks I’m some kind of informant to the HCPD, do you understand me? They think I was involved. But you’re going to tell me who was really behind it all.” 

Oh. Well. That’s awkward. “I assure you, that was entirely unintentional.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“I did know about the raid, Juno, but I wasn’t hired to frame you for it.” He lowers the laser, all too aware that it could be grabbed out of his hand in an instant. “I was hired to save you.” 

Another harsh, bitter laugh. “Nice fucking try, Rose. I’ve seen the rates you charge. Nobody would pay that kind of money to help me. Either you’re lying of you’ve been had.”

“She said she was your friend.”

“That should have been your first clue. I don’t have any…” He stops. His forehead creases and he pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Dammit.” 

Peter isn’t normally one to divulge the identity of his clients, but he suspects he’s said enough to tip Juno off. Some of the tension leaves the thief’s frame, and he starts to slump– which wouldn’t have been much cause for concern, except he’s currently straddling Peter’s waist, and his new position is making it rather difficult to breathe.

“If your curiosity has been satisfied, might we move this conversation somewhere else?” 

Peter can feel the jolt that goes through Juno as he realizes the position they’re in. For a moment he’s flustered, but the emotion is masked by something darker. He leans forward, looming menacingly over Juno. “Why? Can’t handle someone else being on top?”

At least the shift gives Peter’s lungs more room to operate. “I’m game for whatever you are, Juno, so long as we get off this floor. The tile is _incredibly_ uncomfortable.” 

Juno grimaces, but at least he rolls off Peter and climbs to his feet. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Disgust practically drips from his voice. “Is fucking the people you tail part of the package deal, or does that part cost extra?” 

“I admit, my methods were tactless.” Peter rises slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves. “I think my client expected me to chain you up in a warehouse somewhere until the whole business with the raid blew over. I doubt that would have held you for long.” 

“Is that what the handcuffs were supposed to be for?” Juno asks sullenly.

“I prefer my equipment to be versatile.”

“Of course you do.” There’s that awful laugh again. “You know, I’ve got to hand it to you. You actually had me going for a while there. You actually made me think–” He stops abruptly, shaking his head, and turns toward the door. “We’re done here.” 

Peter should be glad to see him go. The thief showed up at his office without warning. He’s involved with one of the biggest organized crime families in Hyperion City. He could have killed him– in fact, he might have come here planning to do just that. 

“Juno,” he starts, but his voice dissipates when Juno glances back at him. He looks haunted. Wounded. “What happened– it wasn’t just about the job.”

Juno wants _so badly_ to believe him. Peter can see it in his eyes. 

He turns away all the same.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life's been rough since Juno got kicked out by the Kanagawas. Luckily, he has a Guardian Angel looking out for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> briwhosaysni asked:  
> Can we maybe get more of the au where Peter's the detective and Juno's the thief?
> 
> Be aware, there's lots of blood, gore, and medical discomfort in this chapter.

It doesn’t matter how fast he runs. The gangsters coming after him could follow at a walk; all they have to do is follow the increasingly wobbly trail of blood that he’s leaving behind. Hell, at this rate, they might not even catch up with him before he bleeds out. They won’t even have to finish the fight, then. They can just throw his body in the trunk of a car and collect the Kanagawas’ bounty on his sorry corpse. And all the while, Cassie is busy running in the opposite direction, making her way into the safety of the sewers.

It’s not a bad way to go, all things considered. A little bit symmetrical, even: he spent most of his childhood trying to get away from his mom; it’s only fitting that his last act is helping another dame escape from her stepmom and her army of cameras. He can live with that.

And even if he couldn’t, it’s not like he’d have to live with it for much longer, anyway. It’s getting hard to see straight. His foot snags on a crack in the concrete, and he sprawls across dirty pavement. He tries to push himself upright, but he can’t catch his breath.

A car slides to a halt ahead of him, blocking the mouth of the alley. The realization makes Juno feel a little stupid. Of course they wouldn’t just be chasing him on foot. Of course somebody would have gone ahead to cut off his escape.

Someone gets out of the car and kneels beside him. “Oh, Juno. What have you gotten yourself into now?”

It’s not an unpleasant voice. Not unfamiliar, either.

“Juno, I need you to get up. Please.”

Juno can barely breathe, but a name still slips out among his frantic coughing: “Rose?”

It’s not Rose, though. It’s Rex Glass, or Christopher Morales, or any of a dozen other aliases that he’s scattered across the city.

Another voice, higher and more grating: “Oh my gawsh—he’s not dead, is he?”

“Stay in the car,” Rose calls. “And get out of sight. Someone’s coming.”

The car slides out of the mouth of the alley, and Rose rises to his feet. “Hold on, Juno. It’ll be over soon.”

Juno drags himself onto his hands and knees. If Rose is going to kill him, then he can look Juno in the eyes when he does it.

But Rose is gone. Juno is alone in the alley, still bleeding from the wound in his chest. There’s only two more shots left on his laser—three, if he reduces their power to stun. And there are seven gangsters rushing down the alley toward him. They slow down, out of breath from the chase. There’s no point in running anymore when they’ve got him cornered.

Juno is going to die here. He already knows that. But at least he won’t go down without a fight.

“I told you I got ‘im,” one of the gangsters says to the others.

“Don’t be an idiot. I was the one who hit him,” snaps another, and a third adds his two cents. While they argue, none of them notice a shadow detaching itself from the wall behind them. It moves against the dark alley so smoothly that Juno might have thought he imagined it. At least, until a plasma blade slices through three necks in a single swipe. The bodies don’t even hit the floor before Rose slashes through a fourth. But by now the others have wised up to the attack. They round on him, lasers drawn—

And conveniently forget that Juno has his laser, too.

Three shots, and they’re down. Maybe not dead, but they won’t be getting up any time soon.

“Thank you for that, Juno.” Rose steps over their bodies.

Juno falls back. The alley is swimming. The only thing he can see clearly is Rose’s face as it gets closer. “Here for the bounty?”

“Of course not.” He’s coming closer. Almost angelic, that face. “I’m here to help you. You need medical attention.”

Juno’s smile turns grim. “Think I haven’t heard? I’m worth double alive.” Maybe more than that, since he helped Cassie escape.

God, he hopes she makes it out.

Rose says something, but Juno can’t understand. Everything sound garbled and far away.

The last thing he sees are Rose’s impossibly bright eyes.

* * *

Cassandra Kanagawa has been kidnapped.

That’s how her family is spinning it, anyway—never mind that she’s gone on strike four times in the past year, and her streams have been forcibly interrupted by ‘technical difficulties’ countless times during her rants about her need to escape from her stepmother’s clutches. A mistreated starlet finally escaping the grasp of her manipulative family? That’s the kind of story that would make people turn off the Kanagawa streams and feeds purely out of solidarity.

A kidnapping, though—that’s got people glued to their screens, frantically refreshing in case there’s another update. Especially because the kidnapper has already been identified: the Hellhound of Hyperion City.

Oh, yes, they _could_ call it what it really is: one of their employees who got off his leash and started going after the kinds of people that the HCPD wouldn’t dare to touch. The enemy of mobsters and kingpins everywhere. But that risks making him look like a scrappy underdog, and then people might even start rooting for him— _imitating_ him, even— and they can’t have that. So they paint him as the big bad boogeyman, instead.

That doesn’t keep him from accumulating fans, though. There are dozens of streams tracking his movements and identifying his most recent victims. There’s even an amateur stream— _Houndwatch_ —dedicated to uncovering every tiny nugget of information about him. Fortunately for Juno, the bits of truth are indistinguishable from the mountain of misinformation. Rita has supplied quite a bit of the latter herself, borrowed mostly from a few dozen of her favorite shows. Meanwhile she and Peter sit on files full of legitimate information.

Juno’s blood type, for example, which Peter found in the police records from when Juno was a cop. Those come in handy when he sends Rita out to buy enough for a transfusion from a local blood bank, along with fresh clothes and several rounds of the most potent antibiotics she can get her hands on.

Meanwhile Peter has to deal with the more hands-on tasks.

“Really, Juno. The sewer? What were you thinking?” Peter sighs as he strips off Juno’s clothes. He goes through the pockets, just in case there’s anything important, and then stuffs them in a trash bag to be burnt later. There’s no saving any of them.

It’s Peter who has to deal with those tasks, of course. Rita gets squeamish enough about his visits to Valles Vicky’s; there’s no way she would be able to handle undressing and bathing Juno, even for the most practical of reasons. Which isn’t to say Peter isn’t bothered by any of this: he may have seen Juno in a few dozen compromising positions, but he wishes he didn’t have to see him this way. The laser burn on Juno’s chest is ugly and raw. He’s covered in dozens of smaller cuts and scrapes all over his body. Several of them show signs of infection.

It’s a miracle he’s lasted this long.

Peter washes the wounds first, disinfecting them as best he can. The sealant bandages aren’t hospital grade, but they’ll have to do. By the time Rita arrives, Juno is clean and smells like soap and ointment, rather than raw sewage. He’s laid across Peter’s bed, covered with blanket.

Even with Rita’s training, it takes a few tries to properly stick the vein and administer the IV drip. Juno starts to stir a few times during the procedure, but thankfully he doesn’t wake. Rita heads home afterward; she has a shift at the HCPD in the morning, and rumors of the Hellhound’s death to spread.

* * *

When Juno wakes, he’s pretty sure he’s still dreaming.

He knows this bed. These walls. Those blackout curtains over the windows. He knows the smell on the pillow—good shampoo and moisturizer mixed in with exotic fragrances from distant planets.

It’s not a bad dream. Might be better if he wasn’t so tired, though.

And if he wasn’t alone.

He tries to sit up, but feels an uncomfortable tugging in his arm. There’s a needle sticking out of him. And a tube. And an IV drip.

Maybe it’s not such a nice dream after all.

“What the hell?” he rips off the tape holding the tube against his skin. Before he can pull the rest of it out, the bedroom door swings open.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you didn’t take that out.” And there he is: Rex Glass or Duke Rose or whatever the hell he’s calling himself today, striding through the door to the bedside.

This isn’t a dream at all, is it?

“What the hell is going on here?” Juno demands. He wants to throw the blankets off and leap to his feet, but he can’t muster the energy. God, he’s so tired.

“You’re recovering, hopefully,” the detective says. “You lost quite a bit of blood yesterday. How are you feeling?”

“Like I took a goddamn laser to the chest. What do you think?”

“Fair enough.” The detective takes a medical kit out from under the bed and cuts off a strip of tape. “May I?”

“Oh, _now_ you’re asking my permission?”

“I would have asked before, Juno, but I’m afraid you were unconscious.”

Juno wants to deny him, just out of spite. But even his slight movements are making the needle wiggle uncomfortably under his skin. The sensation itself isn’t nearly as terrible as the knowledge that it’s in there. “Fine, hurry up and do what you’re gonna do already. Just get it over with.”

The detective bends over his arm and tapes the tube back in place, stilling the erratic little movements, seemingly unbothered by any of this, and it’s absolutely infuriating.

“You knew exactly where I was going to be,” Juno says. “How long have you been stalking me?”

The detective tuts good-naturedly. “Please, Juno. _Tailing_. I’m a professional.” 

“So this is part of another job?”

“…Alright, perhaps stalking _is_ the more appropriate word.” At least he has the decency to sound embarrassed. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself, you know. _The Hellhound of Hyperion City_. It’s got quite a ring to it.”

“I bet it looks great on the wanted posters,” Juno says bitterly. “So who hired you this time? The Kanagawas? The police? Don’t tell me Rita can afford to pay your rates twice. Last time I checked, she doesn’t make that kind of money.”

The detective sits on the bedside, leaning in. The expression on his face is earnest and sincere. “Nobody’s hired me, Juno.”

He looked pretty damn sincere last time Juno was in this bed, too. That didn’t exactly turn out well for him.

“Would you knock it off already?” Juno snaps. His knees rise, forming one more barrier between the detective and himself. The short movement makes his chest wound throb. “I’m too damn tired for this garbage, so how about we skip the song and dance already. Just tell me what you’re being paid to do to me this time so I can get on with my life.”

Goddammit, does the detective really need to look at him like that? All hurt and sorry? Juno knows he’s a good actor, but _damn_. “I’m not being paid to do anything, Juno. I promise you, this isn’t a job. I—“

“I said quit it!” He scoots back until his back hits the headboard and the IV tube tugs at his arm. If he wants to get any further, he’ll have to rip out the needle. He’ll also have to go in the nude, apparently—he’s not wearing any clothes under this blanket.

“I owe you, Juno,” the detective says. “If you don’t believe anything else, believe that.” He rises from the bed and takes a few steps back, giving Juno a little bit of room to breathe. “You could have turned me over to the Kanagawas at any point. It might even have saved your position among their ranks—I imagine after a hit like that, they likely couldn’t afford to lose someone with your skills. But you didn’t, and that’s very likely why I’m still alive. By my measure, that puts me rather deep in your debt.”

“Bullshit,” Juno mutters, but the retort has lost its teeth. Settling a debt is something Juno understands. It’s business. It’s fair. It doesn’t hurt as much as the thought of the detective actually caring about him.

Besides, he’s exhausted.

“Shall I leave you to your rest, Juno?” the detective asks gently.

“What, you’re not gonna cuff me to the bed or something?” Juno challenges.

“Only if you ask nicely.” It’s meant to be a light bit of humor, but the joke leaves a bittersweet taste in Juno’s mouth. The detective’s too, by the look of it. “No. If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. But I do advise that you wait until you finish this round of antibiotics. You’ve been fighting off quite an infection. It may get worse if you stop treating it prematurely.”

The detective’s note should make Juno suspicious, but the thought of paying attention to one more thing saps the last of his energy. Right now, all he can think about is how the room is so cold, the blankets are so warm, and the pillow smells so very nice. He just wants to sleep, dammit.

“Fine,” he mutters, curling up against the headboard, his back to the detective. It’s the gesture of a cranky child trying to dodge a nap. “I’ll stay. For now.”

“That’s all I ask.” The detective retreats through the open door. “Sleep well, Juno.”


End file.
